• Read Genesis 35

MORNING— Back to Bethel

• Focal Passage: Genesis 35:1

“Then God said to Jacob, ‘Arise, go up to Bethel and live there, and make an altar there to God, who appeared to you when you fled from your brother Esau.”

There are seasons when the fire grows dim.

Charles Finney once admitted that even in the midst of fruitful ministry, he sometimes sensed a coldness settling over his own heart. He didn’t excuse it or ignore it. He withdrew. He fasted. He prayed. And as Finney described it, he “plowed up until I struck fire and met God.”

Jacob knew something about that fire.

Genesis 34 records one of the darkest chapters in his life. Violence. Deception. Moral collapse. And perhaps most telling of all—God is not mentioned once. His name simply disappears from the narrative. That’s often how drift begins. Not with outright rebellion, but with quiet absence.

Then, in Genesis 35, God speaks again.

“Arise, go up to Bethel and live there.”

Bethel was not a new place. It was an old one. Years earlier, Jacob had encountered God there while fleeing from his brother. He had made a vow—“If God will be with me… then the LORD will be my God.” Now God calls him back, not to repeat the past, but to remember it.

Revival often begins the same way—not with something new, but with a return.

Jacob obeys, and before the journey begins, he calls his household together:

“Put away the foreign gods… purify yourselves… change your garments.” They buried their idols “underneath the oak 🌳which was near Shechum.” (v. 4)

Coming back to Bethel required a decision. Allegiances had to be clarified. Things carried too long had to be laid down. What once felt harmless now had to go.

We may not carry carved idols, but Scripture still warns us plainly:

“Little children, guard yourselves from idols.”
1 John 5:21 (NASB 1995)

Anything we rely on for security, meaning, or hope in place of God can quietly take His seat in our hearts.

When Jacob arrived at Bethel, he built an altar. He remembered who God had been to him—“the God who answered me in the day of my distress.” And God met him there again.

Sometimes the way forward begins by going back—to the place where you first met Him.

• Reflection:  This morning, consider this:  Where was your Bethel?  What promises did you make there?  And could God be gently calling you back?

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EVENING— The Oak of Weeping

• Focal Passage: Genesis 35:8

🌳 “Now Deborah, Rebekah’s nurse, died, and she was buried below Bethel under the oak; it was named Allon-bacuth.”

Jacob came back to Bethel expecting renewal—and he received it. But revival did not spare him from sorrow.

Just after God reaffirmed His promises, the narrative pauses on a quiet, easily overlooked verse. Deborah, the nurse who had likely been part of Jacob’s life since childhood, dies and is buried beneath an oak 🌳. The place is named Allon-bacuth—the Oak of Weeping.

It is a tender detail. A reminder that even in seasons of spiritual clarity, grief still finds us. Bethel was a place of worship—but nearby stood an oak named for tears.

Soon after, Rachel—the love of Jacob’s life—dies in childbirth. Jacob sets up another stone, this one not of celebration, but of loss. Revival did not remove the ache; it steadied him within it.

Life is often like that.
One stone marks where God met us.
Another marks where someone we loved was laid to rest.

And yet, God was still at work.

Rachel named her son Ben-oni—“son of my sorrow.” Jacob renamed him Benjamin—“son of my right hand.” What began in grief was redefined by hope.

Even the geography whispers grace. Rachel died near Ephrath—later known as Bethlehem. And just beyond, near Migdal-eder—the watchtower of the flock—shepherds would one day hear angels announce the birth of the Savior. God was weaving redemption into places marked by pain.

God met Jacob at Bethel.
And God stayed with him at the oak 🌳.

• Reflection:  Can you name a place in your life where worship and weeping now stand side by side—and are you willing to trust that God is present in both?
• Closing Prayer:  Father, You are the God who calls us back—and the God who stays with us when we weep. If my heart has drifted, draw me back to Bethel. And if sorrow lingers tonight, meet me beneath the oak. Thank You that renewal does not cancel grief, and grief does not cancel Your promises. Be my God again tomorrow, as You were the day I first met You. Amen.